Undercover Agent
by leafyaki
Summary: Allen Walker is an Agent of the Order, and a darn good one at that. When he comes across a string of victims with missing body parts, he is willing to go to great lengths to solve the case – even if it involves cross-dressing and giving a lap dance.
1. Let's Play a Game, Detective

**Title**: Undercover Agent

**Chapter 1**: Let's Play a Game, Detective

**Fandom**: D. Gray-man

**Genre**: Action/Adventure/Crime

**Rating**: R (M)

**Summary**: Allen Walker is an Agent of the Order, and a darn good one at that. When he comes across a string of victims with missing body parts, he is willing to go to great lengths to solve the case – even if it involves cross-dressing and giving a lap dance. A multi-chapter story.

**Warnings**: Character Death, Cross-Dressing, Gore, (Possible) Sexual Situations, Violence. If there are more they will be listed at the beginning of every new chapter.

**Disclaimer**: This applies to the whole story – I do not own D. Gray-man and will never presume that I do.

* * *

It was dark, hot, and almost impossible to move in the heavy coats they've been handed. Nights at Vatral were already harsh – a city known for its crime rate, the sheer immorality of the place was astounding, deepening and bringing attention to itself even more so when night beckoned. With the addition of neon lights sprinkled all around the city and a teeming mass of people moving through narrow streets, summer nights were made all the more mysterious, muggy and dangerous. And if one were attempting to track down a crazed murderer as Toma and his team were, having to push past people and squeeze through crowds, well – things really couldn't get any worse.

"_Damnit_."

The mission had started well; it was easy, even. Just follow the target and when the target had made contact with the pub owner, they were given the green light to seize him. That was twenty minutes and three streets ago. Now Toma was nearly blinded by sweat. He just barely caught sight of their target slipping away from the rowdy street party into an alley. Gesturing for his team to follow, Toma ran as silently as possible into the alley, stopping at the turning inside.

_How had the bastard slipped away so __fast_? Toma frowned, peering around the wall and drawing back immediately, having spotted their target near the dustbins. He slid down and breathed heavily for a while, giving time for his team members to catch up and gather around him. When they did and they were a black mass barely visible in the low light, Toma saw that everyone was as breathless as he was, their features hidden by their hoods.

Toma was the leader, and as the leader the actions and outcome were entrusted to him. But Toma didn't know whether to trust himself. He looked at the recruit who had proven himself in the few months he'd been in the force. Toma whispered to the shortest of the three – "We can't get a good shot. Doug?"

Doug looked back, trying desperately to stop panting. The smoke and noise from the crowded street they'd just exited was still stinging his eyes, ringing in his ears. Everything was a little too overwhelming. In the sudden wake of silence and darkness surrounding them, he narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the hair flattened against his forehead with sweat. He smiled grimly. He knew the place, could recite the codes in his sleep.

"We can take cover at A193. Look, he's moving toward B980, if we take A193 or D833, we can ambush him."

Everyone in the team was equipped with a gun for this high-profile case. Doug gripped his gun tightly, lips pressed into a thin line. The dark cloak covered his hand and gun, leaving only a bare outline.

It didn't fool Toma. He could see the tremors. Could feel his heart beating as fast as Doug's must be. He eyed the shaking hand with concern. But now was not the time for that. They had a target to seize.

"Sounds like a plan – "

"No, wait."

_It i__s not the time to wait_! Toma suppressed the urge to growl at his team's third member. "What now, Bazu?" Bazu's bulky figure loomed over them, his eyes were panicked.

"He's not going for B980! A193 will frickin' expose us! We have to go somewhere else – "

"Target's moving," Doug said in a small, tight voice. He lifted himself up on his haunches, ignoring the strain. "_Bazu_, we have to close in soon, before he joins the civilians – "

Toma cursed. There was no more time to discuss. "Just follow, guys!"

Springing up, they dashed further into the alley, stopping just at the corner the man had turned and peering around it again. Halfway down the dirt-strewn alley, the man had his shoulders hunched and was speaking in a low voice to someone at a wooden door. They could just barely discern his lips moving, teeth glinting in the low lamp light.

"He's entering the bar – "

"That's why I said we can't take A193 – "

"Look, just, _keep quiet_." Toma massaged his temples, thinking quick. "We can't get at him when he's in the bar, there'll be too many people – "

"Let's get at him _now_ – "

Toma wanted to scream. This mission was supposed to have ended twenty, thirty minutes ago – he wanted out of the place, safe back at Headquarters where trained interrogators will take over their job instead. Their target laughed, a horrible, shrill laugh that just seemed to mock them even more over their failure, and Toma could hear the swing of the wooden door. They were running out of time. And they just couldn't arrive at a consensus.

In their hurried whispers they didn't catch the click of approaching footsteps and a swish of heavy cloth.

And they didn't notice it either when there was glint of dull metal in the low lamplights, a smile widening and opening to croon,

"_Game's over, boys_."

_Oh shi__t. _

Doug froze. The low, husky voice had been accompanied by the sound of a gun being cocked. A gun cocked against his head, to be very specific. He spun around, staring up at a barrel and, beyond that, another black-cloaked man. Doug's thought processes drew a blank. A193, B980, whatever it was he and Bazu were arguing about – they were all inconsequential on a stage where a gun _was pointed against __**his**__ head_. He swallowed, could feel Bazu and Toma gasp and tense beside him.

All the time they had thought they outnumbered their target three-to-one – and before them stood their target's forgotten partner, a positively demonic grin lighting up his countenance under the heavy darkness of Vatral's night.

There wasn't even time to scream before the trigger was pulled and a crack echoed in the alleyway.

"_Simulation over. Simulation over. All personnel, please exit Simulation Area. Simulation over. Simulation over. All personnel – _"

The shout was still trapped in Doug's throat when lights flickered on, throwing their would-be-killer into relief. They blinked. Darkness was gone, only harsh fluorescent lights taking its place. Their lamp light had vanished.

" – _please exit Simulation Area. Simulation over. Simulation over. All personnel – _"

What just – they had a mission, they were in the middle of one of the hottest summer nights in Vatral, cackles from the crowd still ringing faintly in their ears and their hearts still beating loud and fast, blood rushing in their heads –

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!"

Oh. That didn't belong to the scene. Now they remembered.

Doug cringed, not daring to look behind him. Now that the lights were switched on and he could see clearly, he felt stupid. His face burned. In front of him their gun-holder sighed and lowered his gun, pulling down the cloak's hood to reveal white hair. Allen Walker offered them a sympathetic smile.

Around them, the alleyway slowly dissolved into clean white space, green lines blinking and criss-crossing each other to form three dimensional squares in the air. Smoke was replaced by the sterile smell of air-conditioning, noise by cool stillness and the electronic voice cutting off abruptly over the sound system. The sweat collecting between their clothes and skin, their hearts racing and the cold dread in their throats – those were all too real, however. Doug turned around, not quite daring to lift his eyes from the floor yet.

Kanda Yu, their "target", strode towards them, his countenance dark and threatening. They were at a distinct disadvantage, Doug realized as Kanda and his shadow towered over them, unaffected while the three of them squirmed in a sweaty tangle. Doug had the terrible thought that they were going to be chewed up and spat out only half alive by the demon of the Order – Kanda Yu, first rate Agent, with the biggest stick of the century up his arse. Doug's lips didn't even twitch at the thought.

"You, Toma," Kanda jabbed a finger, "_what were you supposed to do_?"

Toma gulped. "Sir. I was to lead the team to capture the target, sir."

Kanda scowled. "And what did you do _instead_?"

"I, well – I didn't lead the team well and lost sight of the target. I am sorry, si – "

"_Sorry_?" Kanda hissed. "There's no such thing as "sorry" in the real world, Toma! Get that into your head! A mistake is a mistake, and you'll pay for it with blood!" Toma winced. His mouth opened and at the sight of Kanda's glare closed again. Kanda apparently took that as meek compliance.

"You, Bazu!" Another finger jab as he moved on to the next unfortunate target. "What did _you_ do wrong?"

Bazu had never been quite as constrained as Toma. "Sir, I said we should not use area A193. But I do not see anything wrong with that!"

"_The hell it isn't_! What were the other options? There was nothing. No. Where. Even D833 was a stretch. What, you wanted to be the hero, jump out and confront him, guns waving mad?"

Bazu flushed a deep red. "That's not – "

"Not fair? Not right? _I don't care_. Next time, think before you speak _wrongly_ and confuse everyone! Toma is your leader, and if there is nothing wrong with the plan, you damn well shut up and listen. Doug!" He barked. Doug jumped.

"Sir."

"Instead of arguing pointlessly with your partner, keep your eye on your target and talk to your leader! And this one goes for all of you! Why the hell didn't _any of you_ notice Walker creeping up?"

They fidgeted.

"Damn right you should be ashamed! You _knew_ the target had partners, you _knew_ he would never work alone, and Walker had been tracking all of you since twenty bloody minutes ago! Beansprout was just being fucking annoying" – Allen glared – "by "_giving you a chance_" and not stopping this and failing you on the spot. Why weren't you concentrating! Keep your head next time, or you will _die_ out there. Is that clear!"

"Yes, sir," they muttered, shoulders drooping.

Sending them one last glare, Kanda stalked out of the room, brushing past Allen deliberately. Allen narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't say anything. When the door slammed close an uncomfortable silence was left in its wake.

Allen sighed. "Loathe as I am to say it, Kanda's right this time, guys."

Bazu snapped his head up, most likely deciding that he could attempt to argue it out with Kanda's rival. "But – "

Allen held his hand up, stern. "It _was_ careless. Your communication was all over the place. You were all doing well at the beginning, what happened?"

Toma felt the shame continue to weigh down on him. "We started to panic once the target entered the crowd and we were losing sight of him, sir."

Allen nodded. "That led to everyone being high-strung, then?"

Bazu had a sour look on his face even as he acquiesced. Doug simply looked down.

Allen shrugged, peeling off the heavy black cloak with the move. "Well, it was a pretty terrible simulation – but we all have that every now and then. Just assess it and learn. At least it's not in the real world, isn't it? Cheer up."

Toma looked up with some glimpse of hope in his eyes. He missed the flicker of a smirk in Allen's eyes.

"Honestly, it's already quite impressive that you memorized the codes so quickly. Since we gave the Southern Vatral ones to your team only yesterday. Quick thinking there, Bazu, Doug."

Bazu scratched his head. Doug smiled uncertainly, eyebrows knitted together.

"It only makes sense then" – he grinned – "that you'll be able to work out the routes and codes of Central, Western and Eastern Vatral by Monday, wouldn't it?"

The smiles slipped from their faces.

Digging out three packets from the coat pocket, Allen tossed it to them, flashing another smile. "I'll see you three in the training rooms this afternoon, then. We have a lot to do after this morning's performance. Cheer up! And good morning, gentlemen."

Toma, Bazu and Doug stared in horror as Allen went out the same door Kanda did, humming cheerfully under his breath. He had the grin he wore when he pointed the gun in Doug's face.

When the door closed this time Bazu let out a groan. Toma sighed and clapped Doug on the shoulder, smiling with sympathy as Doug's blank eyes remained fixated on the door. The poor boy looked like he was about to go into shock.

"And that's why we say, Doug...that Allen Walker is the true demon in the Order."

.

On an ordinary day, Allen would have snapped at Kanda and demand that he be nicer to the recruits. After all, Kanda was fortunate enough to have had Agent Tiedoll as his trainer when he was a recruit, though that didn't seem to help any for his rudeness and temper. Allen just had to have the luck to be a recruit in the same year – things haven't changed since their early days of petty insults and being both thrown into the simulated deserts to fight their way out; now it was up a notch where they were both highly-ranked Agents of the Order, hurling petty insults at each other and throwing their recruits into simulated deserts. So Allen hated it when Kanda was right and he couldn't argue back.

Yet Toma, Bazu and Doug usually worked well as a team, so perhaps that should have been the first indication that something was off, that day.

He refused to think more of it. At the control room he handed the cloak back to Kie and stretched, feeling light without the heavy material on his shoulders. A yawn threatened to slip out.

"Thanks, Kie. Temperature was absolutely stifling."

"Agent Walker."

Kie looked amused. The cloak was pushed into a closet where it was automatically hung and air-dried, both men used by now to the shrill metallic clangs of the machine. Kie updated the records quickly, golem fluttering as he did so. "Been working Recruit Doug hard again?"

"He needs it if he wants to survive crime in Vatral. Anything for me?"

Kie's screen was a maze of numbers and columns that only he could understand. There was just no way Allen was going to find his instructions on the screen through sheer force of will. Kie made shooing motions with his hand, making Allen stand back. "Yeah, Section Chief Reever just sent this in – Chief Komui wants to see you." A few more clicks and a section of symbols were highlighted in red. "Said to go there after this simulation."

"A mission?"

Kie grinned, fingers flying over the keys. "You're our best undercover agent, after all."

"I'm guessing you say that to Kanda too."

"No thanks. He'll slice me. Will think I poisoned his soba, praising him. Man's as high strung as a coil."

"Hmm, maybe one day that stick will be removed from his arse," Kie snorted as Allen slipped the gun back into the row of simulation weapons. "Thank you, Kie."

Kie waved, going back to the maze of numbers, probably creating the swamps of Northern Vatral for the next simulation group. Allen chuckled, remembering when he had to fight through the swamps in his recruit days. If he were to set it as the next exercise for Toma and his group…Allen rubbed his hands, almost regretting that he might be getting a mission soon, which would put his teacherly duties aside. He really, _really_ hoped it wasn't an undercover mission, just some normal, petty crime was exciting enough. The last time he went undercover Komui had to drill physics into his mind so he wouldn't expose his position, and hadn't that worked out well?

Chief Komui had a brilliant mind – borderline insane, half the staff suspected, but brilliant all the same. He had single-handedly driven the crime rate down by percentages in the double digits the first year he came on the job. It likely had something to do with the new technology he invented and installed in the place, simulations and all, which made life hell for all recruits. Still, it was a work of a sharp mind, even if Section Chief Reever had raised his eyebrow at that claim and resumed chasing after him to get government paperwork done.

Allen grinned at the thought of their giant procrastinator. It'd be good to talk to Komui again, he had been out for work in the past week. He'd knock on the door and hear the familiar sound of piles of paper toppling and Komui attempting to hide his latest invention.

It was then the second indication that the day was not quite right arrived as he knocked and received a sombre "come in". No rush of paper toppling, no sounds of a hastily hidden crowbar. Allen's eyebrows jumped to his hairline.

"Chief Komui?" Peeking in, he was greeted with papers overflowing the table and a tired face popping up above the mountain a moment later. Komui nodded.

"Allen."

"You called for – _woah_."

A flurry of golems rushed out the door, making Allen duck his head. The swarm of them flew down the stairwell, heading for the control centre. When Allen managed to slip in and close the door, he could see the images Komui had downloaded from the golems.

All thoughts of wondering what Komui had been up to disappeared. Allen's question died in his throat, his jaw dropped slightly. Surely the amount of red was imagined. Even after having worked in the service for years –

"Chief – "

"This just came in, Allen," Komui said, a sigh caught in his throat. The man's spectacles were glinting dully in the pale morning light cast through the window. He was normally a cheerful man, almost like a silly uncle to Allen – Allen's heart sank at the sight of dark circles around his eyes. Komui shook his head, removed his hand from its place at his temple and went on. "Do you remember the Suman Dark case?"

_Remember_? He clenched his fist. Of course he remembered. Allen more than remembered it. It was a case that was never solved. Suman Dark, brilliant leader of the Beder Company, was found one morning with his right arm missing and drowning in a pool of his own blood. It was the first case Allen hadn't been able to solve, despite having gone undercover for several rival robotics company to get at the roots of what had appeared to be a straight-forward, if tragic case. His eyes hardened at the memory of the tear-streaked faces of Dark's wife and daughter.

"Yes."

Komui's lips pressed into a thin line. "It seems the same person struck again," he waved his remote control and clicked on a button, the pictures all zooming out until only one remained in full view. "Daisya Barry, promising understudy of the Focence Association, was found murdered in his apartment. His legs were missing."

"His…legs."

Komui held on a button and brought his arm sharply down, bringing the focus away from Daisya Barry's unseeing eyes to his hips. Komui smiled again, mirthless. Allen hissed.

"As you can see, the killers didn't show any respect for the poor boy."

That was a mild way of putting it. His genitals were splattered with dark blood and, courtesy of the human body's final act of humiliation, excrement was mixed with the pool of red. They wouldn't have been able to see all of these if his legs were still attached – only two short stumps remained to show where they would have been. Allen swore.

"Was it – "

"Test results came out. His legs were severed, _then_ he was killed."

_The same as __for Dark. What kind of sick person would…_

"That's your job to find out, Agent," Komui said, closing the images and allowing only the morning light to illuminate them. He massaged the bridge of his nose while Allen let it all sink into him. "Find the connections between these cases. The files on Beder and Focence, Dark and Barry." A neat set of files, bound in black, was handed over to him. "Report to me in a week max. Then you might have to do whatever undercover job you'll need to. And – "

He looked at Allen, a calculating look in his eyes. When he saw Allen's expression, sickened but determined, if a little puzzled at the sudden stop, he smiled a little more sincerely. He remembered the bumbling recruit, proudly stating his naïve aspiration to change the world, and he thought he saw the same old fifteen year old in this twenty year old man's eyes. If anyone could solve the case, Allen Walker would be that someone.

Komui lifted a dusty file, frowning down at it. After a few more seconds of deliberation he placed it on the top of the stack held in Allen's arms. His voice, after a period of silence during which Allen tried to decipher Komui's scrawl, was wearier than Allen had ever heard before.

"Read up on the Bookmen, Allen – I have a bad feeling about all of this."

* * *

**Notes**:

First action/adventure story written ever, hope you enjoyed! Would love to know what you think, of Vatral, the characters, anything at all (:


	2. The Start of Something More

**Title**: Undercover Agent

**Chapter 2**: The Start of Something More

* * *

_He could feel the sweat trickling down his back in the still room. Besides that slide of water on skin everything was calm. The sofa was firm, giving just enough to make it not quite comfortable, but acceptable enough. He sat, back straight, staring ahead, the all too loud tick-tocking of the clock registering in his ears. The air conditioner sighed and whirred, leaving a low whine as the motion of its levers stopped. _

_The sound of somebody walking in high-heeled shoes started echoing from far off the corridor, coming closer with every second. He turned his gaze to the door and focused, making to rise. It was just as he had completely stood up and smoothed his clothes out that the door swung open. A tall woman with long black hair stepped into the room, her eyes finding and settling on him immediately. Her cat-like eyes narrowed – there was no expression in them. _

"_Mr. Johnson, sir?" She asked in a crisp voice. He nodded in response. _

"_I am Lulubell, secretary of Jark Enterprises. If you'll allow me to escort you to the meeting, sir." _

"_Of course," he said in response, bowing his head a little. _

_She turned and motioned for him to follow her. The corridor was quieter than the room, if that was possible. The walls were almost blinding with how white they were. After she had shut the door behind the both of them they took off to the right, passing doors and doors distinguished only by their numbers. As they came closer to each door he could hear quiet murmurs from inside, which faded away as they continued down the hallway. He took note of a door which didn't have a number on it, but which had a security lock embedded in the wall beside it. It was between doors thirteen and fourteen. _

"_Here we are, Mr. Johnson," Lulubell murmured. _

_Pushing door one open, he stepped into a large meeting room painted the same white as the rest of the building. There was a huge oval table and numerous chairs around it – they looked to be made of the same material as the sofa in the waiting room was. He took a quick glance around the table – the man at the head, smiling genially, had to be the director. One space next to his was occupied by a tall man with curly hair, who was looking at him in a friendly but calculating manner. Several section heads were seated along the side of the room closest to the door, all of whom looked like harried in one way or another – _

_Lulubell caught his attention and directed him to the other end of the table which had an empty seat for him. He thanked her and sat, watching as she made her way to the other side of Jark Enterprises' director. _

_A gaze he felt on him made him turn his head, carefully casual, to look. A man with black hair tied up in a rough ponytail was smiling at him. There was something about him that was at odds with the rest of the room. The smile didn't reach that one green eye, which was fixed on him. _

_Before he had more time to contemplate, Noah cleared his throat and directed everybody's attention to him._

"_Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Please feel free to call me Noah…"_

.

The shrill and continuous beeps of his alarm made Allen snap his eyes open. His whole body froze even while the alarm kept ringing beside his ear. After a few seconds of breathing in and out he stretched out his hand and pressed the button, silencing the clock. The only sounds in his room were that of deep breathing for a while. He could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his head.

It had been a while since he had that dream.

He had had it numerous times after they had been forced to close the Suman Dark case indefinitely. It was never just this one by itself – he remembered all the times he assumed different identities. Johnson was one of the few. He had to remember plenty of others, Bergman for when he had been at Venus's, Rossher for when he had liaised with Sonja; they all tended to be conflated with the others in his dreams after the case. This was the first time in a long while that he had such an isolated dream.

He sat up in bed, raising his knees so he could rest his arms on them, blanket caught in between his legs and chest. A small golden ball fluttered up from where it had been seated on the bedside table, settling into the mess of white hair.

"Good morning, Timcanpy," Allen said softly. The golem burrowed further into his hair. Allen chuckled and looked at the clock.

It was now five minutes past six in the morning, in the ninth year, seventh month and nineteen day of the Techni Era.

How long ago had the Suman Dark case been? One year, three months. He sighed and nudged his nose into his arm, frowning down at the bed. The faces in his dream stood out even as the room faded away into mist and misshapen lines. The director, Noah, with the moustache and genial smile. He had always been smiling even when Allen had made some objections to the terms of liaison proposed. That man with the curly hair who didn't say anything, only looked at him steadily. Lulubell had been silently taking notes, her posture straight and perfect. And that man who had the most piercing gaze which he could never quite shake off during the whole meeting – Allen shivered and pushed his knees closer to his chest, hugging them more securely.

If it was only his mind playing tricks on him because of the Barry case he'd be content to shake it off. But his instincts told him otherwise.

Sleepily, as though agreeing with him, Timcanpy tightened his grip on Allen's hair and tugged.

.

Doug held back a grimace as he pushed himself up off the floor for the forty second time. The headband was doing very little to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Still, he was glad that he was not panting when he asked, "I'll be under Agent Kanda for at least the next week, sir?"

Beside him, Allen was concentrating on his vertical, one-handed push-ups as he said, neutrally, "Yes."

Doug stayed quiet until he had finished his round of fifty push-ups. He eased himself into a cross-legged position and waited until Allen flipped back down as well to settle on the floor, his own headband damp with sweat. He looked Doug in the eyes. Doug had a little frown crease in between his eyebrows as he studied Allen.

He had been under Allen for a few months. During that time Allen had had short missions, so he was not unused to training under another agent for the time that it took Allen to complete his missions. Agents were also called in to assist the police in cases from time to time, during which he sometimes got to tag along for the experience. Allen was always serious when it came to any mission, even if he was seemingly light-hearted when he had to inform Doug that there was work to be done. This time, however, there was something…heavy about Allen. Doug wondered if it was the right term. Something even more determined than usual, perhaps?

Allen smiled. "Anyone ever told you, you could be a good psychologist?"

Doug blinked. He thought for a while then gave a wry smile. "You're changing the subject, Agent."

"I wasn't aware there was a subject to begin with."

"Fair enough," Doug said, nodding. "It is Order policy that the less others know – "

" – the safer, unless safety comes in the informing," Allen finished off. "I cannot tell you how long this will take, however."

"Understood," Doug said, even if he was uneasy about this whole subject.

Yesterday, after their disastrous simulation, Doug, Toma and Bazu had cleaned off then headed to the cafeteria for a break. There had been more of a flurry than usual, rumours about an unusual murder case that some of the research team had witness to. Very little details about anything, Jeryy had said as he handed Doug his rice bowl. Komui and his inside team were close-lipped about specific details, even if they couldn't deny the murder case because of the sheer number of witnesses at the site of murder. They had left knowing about as little as when they had entered the cafeteria. The low buzz and hum of discussion had carried on through the day. And he hadn't been able to find Agent Walker anywhere; he, Bazu and Toma were assigned to skills training so he had worked under Agent Klaud the rest of the day.

"Well…" Doug sighed, deciding to push the matter to one side when he couldn't do anything about it, "guess I have the Sunday to prepare myself for next week."

Allen laughed and pushed himself up, offering a hand for Doug to take. Doug was about to reach for it before he recoiled, glaring at Allen.

Allen grinned. "You learn fast, Doug."

"Considering the last time I took it you threw me across the room, it'd be a shame if I didn't learn," Doug said, a sheepish grin on his face as he remembered how Allen had once smiled brightly before sending Doug to the other side of the room with one good swing.

"Basic knowledge. Keep your wits about you in Vatral. You're going out later today, aren't you?" Allen said, lowering his hand and waiting for Doug to stand up properly. Doug's face brightened at Allen's statement.

Inwardly, Allen shook his head, laughing a little to himself. It was true that holidays were a rare thing in the Order, so for Doug to get a day and a half off was an occasion indeed. It would take a while for him to train Doug until he learnt not to reveal his thoughts and feelings so easily, as good as Doug was at reading other people. Doug even looked like he was bouncing a little on his heels – perhaps, Allen thought, he should start incorporating some discretion training when he came back.

Doug was cheerful when he said, "It's rare to have some time to see friends."

Amused, Allen shook his head before bowing down a little, starting off the second phase of their physical training by charging at Doug. Doug hardly had time to yelp or dodge out of the way before his arm was grabbed and about to be twisted. He gritted his teeth and forced his elbow in and arm up so Allen would lose hold of him. Doug jumped away, eyeing Allen warily.

"Your meeting is later, Doug," Allen said, not at all out of breath as he and Doug circled each other. "But you are training now. Stay focused."

Doug nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to find a weak spot to attack. Considering the number of times he had won against Allen (current count: Allen 45, Doug 0) he knew he had little luck – that didn't mean Allen would forgive him if he gave up though. Their silently agreed upon aim was for him to outlast his previous record; he already knew how sore he would be, how much he would want to collapse into bed.

_Gah, Lavi, you had better be worth the meet-up,_ Doug thought with a hint of anticipation as he dashed and tried for sweeping Allen's legs.

.

Lavi hummed to himself as he stood by a gate. There was hardly any space in Vatral for nature, which was perhaps why Doug wanted to meet-up in the small, run-down park off a residential district. The wood behind his back was decaying. The huge construction site just next to the park seemed to further hint that the days of the park were numbered, Lavi thought.

He was honestly surprised that Doug had been happy to arrange a meet-up. Considering that the first time they had met, a year and four months ago in an old languages' class, Doug had thought –

"_You are looking at me, but you're not really looking at me, are you? It's like everything reflects off your eye."_

To the point and sharp, Doug was. Lavi chuckled at that memory. Lavi had to be…removed, not long after, so he never did see Doug in following classes.

It was a coincidental run-in two months back in a small eatery that had brought both of them back into each other's lives. He had been in a suit, his hair covered by a hat, and his eye disguised with a coloured contact lens, but Doug had taken one look at him and exclaimed, _"Lavi?"_ Lavi couldn't help but react to that call, further proving Doug right.

He wondered how much he had changed. Why Doug had scrutinized him before smiling warmly and waving him to the seat beside. And how did he –

Coming up with disguises wasn't the hard part in itself. It was so very easy, in this Techni age, for him to find the wigs he needed, the clothing, the eye colour even. In a pinch he could act as an old man even. He remembered when he went to class he had been a brunet with one brown eye visible, the other covered by a bandage. He had carried himself differently, certainly very differently from when he was in a suit and gentleman's hat. He had been Cliff when he went into the small eatery. Then Doug had called him by a different name.

He had been found out.

His throat had closed up, an easy smile slipped to his face and he had been prepared to pull out when Doug's gaze met his and he had frozen, not quite knowing what to do; nothing had quite taught him the possibility that he would be found out. The lesson had always been _never let your cover slip_. Bookman had always been so strict about it; they had never failed.

Till now he wondered if it was a stupid thing to do, to agree to just…hang out. Bookman had suspected, given by the piercing gaze he had received before he had left. He supposed he could pass it off as information gathering – perhaps if he probed and found out Doug's job…

He turned his gaze away from the pale sky to see Doug approaching from a distance. He let that easy smile slip onto his face again and wondered if, this time, Doug would still react warmly to him. He really hadn't changed that much within this year and a half. He knew he couldn't change much.

.

As far as the Bookmen went, they were something of an urban myth.

And as an organization that dealt with both overt and underground crime, the Order had the most extensive information on them, which really wasn't saying much to Allen's irritation.

Saturday evening found an Order Agent belly-down and kicking his legs in the air in "Unlocked", a dance studio. And ignoring a dance instructor's amused glance at him.

"Chairs not good enough for you?"

Allen hummed, shifting and finding a more comfortable position on the glazed floor. He focused once more on the first page while Lenalee took a drink from her bottle and adjusted her headband. Allen caught the smell of sweat and wrinkled his nose. Lenalee threw her towel at him.

"Try teaching for three hours straight and not breaking a sweat, Allen Walker," she said with a faint scowl.

Allen grinned down at the paper. He could hear Emilia's clear voice through the open door as she counted off the beat for several shuffling pairs. There were some thumps and Emilia broke off – "No, you jump _between_ three-and-four, not _at_ three – "

It was too busy during daytime at the Order, and then too quiet when things wound down and the recruits were finally released for some rest. Allen would then worm his way here to read through his files surrounded by the sounds of ungainly feet. Lenalee and Emilia never minded, though Komui had screeched a fair few times that Lenalee's virtue would be in danger anytime Allen – or any boy, for that matter – was within ten meters of her. Allen risked it for the white noise that served as his backdrop when he read.

Lenalee and Emilia never asked what he or anyone in the Order was working on – it would put them in more risk than they should be in and the last thing Lenalee wanted was a few more wrinkles on her brother's forehead.

He flipped through the file one more time – it had obscure interview records, a write-up on the different versions rather than what the Bookmen actually were or did in the first place, and the few times and places the word "Bookman" was tossed around. Some theories were easily disproven – they ranged along the lines that they were a new species of vampires (which was, to the people of Afriast, an explanation for their being in existent for the past few centuries), to that they were travelling gypsies who ate children (a Zealia legend). Some people have even claimed the Bookmen were powerful Seers who worked as the right-hand men of Kings (this one belonged to the Ansians). These stories often had the Bookmen disappearing after great periods of transitions, like wars, famines, natural disasters – which of course had the unfortunate effect of making them seem like harbingers of misfortune.

Allen frowned. In most cases the Bookmen seemed like a convenient excuse for people to lay blame on when they couldn't solve mysteries. Yet there must have been some point from which these stories started. Did they even exist? And if they did, why did Komui think they were related to the case in the first place? Would they be of assistance? The Beder and Focence files didn't mention anything…the Bookmen papers were all too short and the information contained within went from point to extreme point; he needed more than what he had.

"Allen…"

He looked up at Lenalee's voice. She sounded serious; there was a familiar look of concern on her face. Allen hated putting it there, lord knew she already worried enough. He immediately closed the file and gave her his full attention.

"What is it, Lenalee?"

She twisted the cap on the bottle back and forth, a nervous tick left over from childhood. Glancing to the side she said, softly, "Will you…do you have to be gone long this time?"

Allen swallowed a sigh. "Lena…you know I can't tell you anything, right?"

"I know. But, I don't want – "

She broke off and looked down, fingers tight around the bottle. The pause spoke more than anything she said would have.

It had been a year ago when Allen had landed in the hospital, his whole left side seemingly on flames upon contact with an unknown substance. The worst part of it was he didn't even know where he had come into contact with such a substance. He had had to spend three weeks in hospital before he could regain control of the limb – Lenalee had been there for a long time, trying her best to encourage him through the physical therapy.

Allen's left hand clenched unthinkingly at the memory. Nothing had been found out even through Komui's and his team's extensive research, and he couldn't believe he might have been _this_ close to closing the Dark case once and for all –

He couldn't promise Lenalee anything. Looking down, he fiddled with the edge of the files. Lenalee nodded at his silence and left through the office door to get back to her class, her feet making barely a sound on the polished floor.

Allen felt like the biggest bastard in the world. He groaned, flopping down onto the file again. If nothing else, for Lenalee's peace of mind too, he had to gather his clues quickly. Think, think – the murderer had struck again with slightly more than a year of absence, he had visited the site of murder himself before coming over, there should be something, anything.

Perhaps if he just shut his eyes for a few moments to gather his thoughts…

.

"_I hope we shall see you next week, Mr. Johnson? Perhaps next time we could take you on a tour of our premises. Same day…same time?" _

_The clock ticked steadily in the room as he met Noah's eyes and nodded. He had listened carefully throughout this whole meeting, tested and checked the activities of Jark throughout the past few weeks to see if they had any connection to the case. He felt there was something, but it just wasn't enough, not entirely enough for evidence. _

_Jark had, like most other robotics companies, a fair amount of liaison with Beder. It wasn't so much rivalry, however. The two companies concentrated on different productions; Beder was more concerned with prosthetic limbs and genetic manipulation for stronger limbs; Jark seemed to be interested in the creation of better communication tools, similar to the golems used in the Order. Their proposed products – like emotion detectors – were, while morally questionable, not enough as a possible catalyst in the murder of Beder's star. Given that Noah himself had just offered a juicy invitation…_

"_That would be appreciated, sir," he said in response. Noah chuckled and nodded. _

"_Anything for a new, beautiful friendship between Jark and Crown's," he said with glee. Allen controlled himself from shuddering; there was something twisted in the way Noah had said it. "I call this meeting to an end, then," Noah said, pushing his chair back from the table. _

_There was a general murmur and shuffle as several personnel left the room. Lulubell and the curly-haired man stood back, talking with each other while Allen walked forward and shook Noah's hand. Noah clapped him on the shoulder before sweeping out of the room himself, beckoning the man to follow him. _

_He would have to wait to be shuffled out. When he turned to face Lulubell she was directing her gaze not at him but at some point over his shoulder. _

_He had wondered whether he should address this strange man. _

_Turning around, he saw a hand stretched towards him, the man with black hair and an impossibly green eye smiling at him. The same uneasy feeling washed over him as he shook the man's hand. _

"_Very intriguing proposal, Mr. Johnson. Crown's development is certainly worth looking forward to," the man said in a light, clear voice. He sounded sincere enough. He could be, like Lulubell, a secretary in the company. An auditor, perhaps?_

_Allen nodded, smiling a little in apparent sincerity. He knew he was a master of that look. But something about the man's gaze said he wasn't being fooled – it was entirely possible that he had met his match in this game of expressions. _

"_Thank you very much. I am sorry I didn't catch your name, Mister…?" _

_The man took a step back, dropping their hands. Allen could feel Lulubell's gaze on both of them. _

"_Deak," the man said softly, tilting his head to the side a little, "just Deak will do, Mr. Johnson." _

* * *

**Notes:**

Thank you for the support for the first chapter! It took me a while to get back into fanfiction writing. After a few drafts I finally came up with something I'm fairly satisfied with. I _am_ quite eager to move on to what the summary had promised will occur in this story. I hope you have enjoyed!

Action will pick up next chapter, I hope ;)


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